Casey's Pastries
by Modest Jonathan
Summary: For all of you who have wondered what SVU would be like with our favorite detectives as baked goods, wonder no more your dreams have come true! Witness heartbreak, mystery, suspense, and romance in Law and Order: Special Baking Unit!
1. Chapter 1

The smell of freshly baked bread wafted out of _Casey's Pastries _on its opening morning. Redheaded Casey Novak rushed back and forth, lime green apron outlining her authoritative movements. Casey whirled about, opening ovens, extracting pans of bread, setting timers, answering the phone: it was a grand day and this was just the beginning.

"Hello," came Casey's sharp but sweet voice into the receiver of the phone. "This is Casey's Pastries and I'm Casey how may I help you?"

"Yes," returned a heavy and slow voice in return, "I wanted to know, how is your rosemary bread?"

"Quite splendid, sir, would you like to place an order for it, we can have it ready once we're open?"

"No, no, I'll just stop in soon and pick it up. You have some freshly baked, yes?"  
>"Pulling it out of the oven right now!" Casey answered as she carefully withdraw a baking sheet punched out with craters filled with risen dough.<p>

She set the baking sheet down momentarily to carry a basket of cranberry muffins to the store's counter, which was ready and waiting for the first customers. Casey's Pastries was a neat little shop, built from the first floor of a renovated apartment building near a busy street corner of New York. Above her was tucked away office space and a few remaining tenants. The real estate was the key, however; after finding a spot almost any business could thrive considering the sheer volume of traffic that flooded the streets of New York daily. It wasn't even seven in the morning yet and still Casey could hardly see the opposite end of the street, much less hear very much over the raucous honking of car's horns and the continual drawl of their engines.

"Casey! Do you want some of the bagels set out on display as well?"

Casey turned from the gleaming storefront window to one of her assistants, a young blonde by the name of Alex. Alex was holding a tray of bagels and smiling eagerly. All of her employees were thoroughly excited about the opening of Casey's Pastries. Casey had combed the cafes, bakeries, and pastry shops of New York City meticulously after graduating from culinary school, searching for the best bakers to join her new armada. She intended to make a name for herself as a respectable and delectable baker, and she wanted only New York's finest to join her.

"Yes, please, set the bagels out as well. And, Alex, are the munkins finished yet?"

"It'll be a few more minutes but then we'll have them out as well," Alex said as she scrambled off.

"Make it snappy we open in five!"

"Got it," trailed her voice.

Despite her urgent tone Casey knew everything was ready. She almost felt like dropping into one of the deep blue armchairs they had placed around the seating area. A mix of tables, round and square, small booths, armchairs, and a small bar with stools sat arranged in an apparently random but carefully planned fashion about the floor of the pastry shop. Although it was called Casey's Pastries it was meant to be more of an avant-garde cafe, but Casey had furnished it traditionally. A slight ramp sloped up past the glass display case that boasted rows of tarts and treats, behind which resided muffins, danishes, scones, doughnuts, and soon, Casey's munkin, a delight that she had invented entirely herself and was soon to be the staple of New York pastry fame. She could already see the cover of _The Urban Gourmet. _Behind the display case were wooden mesh grids that housed the array of bread Casey offered, everything from banana nut to sourdough to poppyseed to multigrain to walnut and more; the list went on, and would frequently vary with Casey's mood and the stock of local markets.

Casey stood proudly behind her counter. It was one minute until opening, and a line of eager customers had already formed outside the door. Alex hurried out with the munkins and placed them delicately among the other treats in the glass case. Casey had prepared these last so they would be especially warm and fresh for the store's first customers. Casey's other assistant, Abbie, had just appeared from the back of the bakery where she had been refilling the ovens with bread ready to rise.

"Alex? Abbie? Everyone ready? Today begins the slow ascendance of Casey Novak to world-acclaimed pastry chef! Now, it's time! Abbie! Get the door! Casey's Pastries is open for business!"

Abbie rushed over to the door, unlatched its triple-enforced steel lock and swung the door open to admit the throng of hungry citizens. In proper New York style, they poured in like a deluge and the bakery was soon swamped with noisy chatter, cell phone ringtones, the cries of little children and rebuffs of their parents. But Casey was prepared, she hadn't slaved away for the last few years for nothing. She could take this crowd, in fact, this crowd wouldn't know what hit them.

"Hello and welcome to Casey's Pastries congratulations on being our first customer I'm Casey how may I help you?" Casey said all in one swift rehearsed breath, the words flying out and the sentence ending before the customer had easily comprehended any of it.

"Good morning," the man clad in a blue coat and red tie replied, a little unsure. "Could I please have a plain bagel with cream cheese and black coffee to go?"

"Certainly," Casey said as her finger punched the items out on the register in front of her. "It'll be $2.35 please." The order had already appeared on a monitor in front Alex who had sliced the bagel and was now awaiting its crunchy toasted form to appear in the egress of the toaster. Abbie was now back behind the counter and commandeering the second register, handling business almost as fast but not as deftly as Casey Novak a few feet away.

In this manner customers were quickly shuffled in and out, and within a few hours the clamor died down enough for the diligent girls to relax a little.

"I guess this is the lull before the lunch crowd," murmured Casey to Alex as she hurtled by with another tray of bread."

"It looks like it," said Alex in return. "Speaking of lunch we'll need some more of your cryptic munkins!"

"Right," said Casey, "I'll get on it!" She sped off in a lime green and red blur.

Casey left Alex and Abbie to handle the front while she headed to the ovens to work up another batch of her fabled munkins. She pulled out a bag of secret flour imported from Jamaica and mixed it with brownie bits and caramel, and then used a special mold to craft them into cushy little balls. She coated them in mulberry powder which was carefully made from mulberries grown on the slopes of Mount Hiei. It was rumored that the mulberry trees harbored the spirits of an ancient Japanese sect of ninjas, and they had been personally recommended to her by a reputable chef. Casey made about a hundred and then set them all in the oven to let them settle into their delicious doughy futures.

She returned to the front of the store to check up on how things were going. Seeing that they had some spare time and it was nearly lunch, Casey prompted Alex, "Alex, quick, one Casey Club, what goes on it?"

"Turkey, ham, provolone, bacon, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, mayonnaise and the customer's choice of bread in that order and with an ounce of love!" Alex replied without hesitation.

"Excellent," Casey said, delighted. Casey wasn't worried that her employees had forgotten, she was just teeming with excitement and couldn't resist testing them. Alex and Abbie had memorized the store's menu and could recite the ingredients of anything they sold forward and backward, along with its price before and after tax. After being handpicked by culinary maven Casey Novak they had sought to live up to her expectations, and so far were doing so like true apprentices. They had heard the rumors that Casey's old job had ended abruptly and she had then turned to her second favorite hobby of all time: the art of cooking. Casey's past was a subject of intense curiosity for Alex and Abbie, but despite their polite prodding they could extract no more from Casey other than that she had 'been a lawyer in a previous life,' so they mostly let the issue rest.

The day continued pleasantly and by evening Casey was convinced of the store's success. By no means, however, did the pastry shop lack a constant presence of customers at any time during its opening day, and therefore Casey, Alex and Abbie were all quite exhausted when it came time to close. Seven in the evening was when the store closed, Casey had chosen it because it was a decent hour for a bakery to close and it meant that they had very simple hours: 7am-7pm weekdays.

Casey walked to the front and locked the door before heading toward the rear exit in company of Alex and Abbie.

"So, good first day Casey?" asked Abbie.

"Yes, I think so!" Casey replied smiling. "What do you think?"

"I thought it was splendid! You should have seen the happy looks of the little children who devoured your munkins! What do you put in those anyways?"

"Oh, you know, just a little magic touch, that's all. It's my own secret."

"Fine! Keep your secrets! But when you become famous don't forget about us!"

"Oh I won't, don't worry, maybe I'll name my next concoction after you. Abbie's Strudel, topped with Alex Creme, how does that sound?"

"As long as you don't put us in it, great!" Abbie replied laughing.

Casey flicked off the light switch and the three departed, more as companions than coworkers; another attribute Casey had deemed indispensable to the success of her store. As Casey left the thoughts moved to the rest of her life, to things that she had not considered during the daytime in the rush of business. To bills to pay, to trash that needed to be taken out, to the annoying sound her car made when driving on the highway, to Clifford, her neighbor that she had a crush on. She thought of what this day had symbolized, how it was the beginning of a new stage in her life, how she was finally going to be able to move on after what had happened- after she could no longer be a lawyer. Soon, her thoughts had drifted far away from the homely pastry shop that she had spent the last year designing, planning, and staking her hopes on- and from the neat and orderly tarts and pastries, muffins and cakes, bagels and munkins that peacefully resided there. Even if her thoughts had returned again to these baked goodies her mind could not have perceived how one of the munkins trembled slightly in the dim twilight offered by the store's windows, how it seemed to shake some of its dark green powder off of itself, and wobble in place. She could not have imagined how a little puff of the powder emanated from its round surface as if it had exhaled a breath; an alteration so subtle that not even had her face been in front of the glass display case would she have interpreted this imperceptible change for the sign of awakening it signified. No, Casey's thoughts were elsewhere, as where the thoughts of the other of New York's laboring and sleepless citizenry, on the night of the _Eternal_ _Recurrence_.

The little munkin puffed out another ring of its mulberry coating, and stirred slightly, now rolling around in place. Had someone had ears of the size or tuning to hear such small movements, they would not only have perceived an irregularity attributable only to conscious movement, but would have also been able to make out the faint stirrings of a voice, a voice that grew and subsided gradually, as a tide surges against a barrier before breaking through. Then, finally, in relief and release, a coherent voice burst forth from the round ball of baked dough.

"Well I'll be if it hasn't been long enough!" The munkin rolled about now excitedly, as a child becomes energized after waking up.

"Brrrr!" The munkin said, spinning and sending clouds of the dark green powder out and among the other baked items. The powder settled among his soon to be comrades, drifting down like a coat of snow, and they, too, soon began to depict signs of stirring.

"All right, all right now! It's time to get up and going, we've got work to do! Come on my friends wake up! I told the government had some weird-ass conspiracies! I'll glad you'll finally have to believe me about this one!" said the munkin. And with that came simultaneous bursts of breath identical to the one that had just animated the munkin, and soon the glass pastry display was bursting and thriving with the activity of dozens of little baked beings, now in chorus producing an all too familiar sound, _DOINK DOINK._


	2. Chapter 2

sorry forgot the a/n on the last. so...

A/N: I don't own SVU but I do own Law and Order Special Baking Unit! Also, credit and inspiration for much of the essential plot and character avatars of this story go to my accomplice in crime, Ranowa Hikura! (beware of the Limer!) Anyways, I think that's all, here's Ch. 2, Read and review please!

Night had fallen across New York City and the majority of its inhabitants either lay restfully in their beds or were coming to the close of their daily routines; however, there were those who remained awake, most up to no good, some by dint of the necessity, but none quite like those peculiar and odd souls that now inhabited the interior of Casey's Pastries. The glass case was now truly animated, in striking contrast to the otherwise indifferent and quiet store, and the little baked goods that had earlier been the object of many a customer's eye were now speaking and moving in earnest.

While the original cloud of powder released by the first munkin to come to life had been spread out among his fellows, only a small amount of them had followed in suite to come to life, while the rest had stirred slightly but remained inanimate. The now five individuals who had just been released from the depths of their slumber now congregated in the center panel of the display case to consult each other on the queer nature of their experience.

The munkin pioneer addressed them first, but was interrupted as he started talking by an overbaked muffin that had hobbled up next to him.

"What the hell, Munch, is that you? I'll be damned if I'm talking to a pastry!" it said.

"Yes, Fin, I would appreciate it if you would allow me-"

"Fin!" cried an orb-like piece of chocolate that was rolling around erratically. "Fin! Munch! What are you guys doing here? Speaking of, what the hell am I doing here?"

"Olivia, is that you?" came another voice out of a round and immobile cake that had been fortunately been placed near the locus of congregation.

"Guys! Calm down! Yes, meet SVU incarnate, we are all, almost, here!"

"Why the hell am I a muffin?" said Fin.

"Well, I was getting to that before you interrupted me…" Munch grumbled.

"And what am I supposed to be?" exclaimed the cake. "I can't even move, I'm just a lousy loaf now!"

"A, Stabler Cake, to be precise," corrected Munch.

"And what about me!" cried the roaming chocolate orb.

"A chocolate orb, of course."

"A chocolate orb of course? Munch what the hell is going on- wait, I remember… I remember something awful. Something awful just came back to me out of nowhere! There was a fire, and… and…"

"Oh god," said Elliot, "she's right, the precinct…"

"Yes, we were all killed," summarized Munch laconically. "SVU was destroyed and none of us survived."

"Right, none of us survived," said the muffin, "so what exactly are we doing here?"

"Well, that's the point I was trying-"

"And why do you get to be a munkin while I'm stuck as this lousy loaf-"

"Stabler Cake," Munch interjected. "Guys, I know this is all a little absurd, but please, let me explain and it will make a little more sense." Munch interpreted their silence as acquiescence and so began to speak. "You know I was all a little obsessed with government conspiracies, well, the government knew as well, and they had been keeping an eye on me. On all of us really. By some incredible stroke of luck, they contacted me just a few weeks before SVU was destroyed and let me in on a secret that I couldn't have even guessed. It was codenamed _The Eternal Recurrence_, and it was a project they had been working on for decades. It began with the observed superhuman powers of the Marathon Monks of Mt. Hiei, and the US government began to do a little more research, eventually concluding that their exceptional physical abilities and endurance was indebted to more than their training, nutrition, or even genetics. These unusual individuals were administered a special mixture of mulberries and other natural herbs from when they were young which seemed to cause them to exhibit supernatural powers. The government came to conclude that the souls of deceased warriors were being carried on through the berries, so they began to do more research, and well… they wanted to test it first with us for some reason."

"Test it with us! And you agreed?" Munch's comrades exclaimed.

"Whoa, whoa now! Don't go and think they burned down the precinct, that was an entirely different affair. The _Eternal Recurrence_ wasn't supposed to happen until many years from now, before which you would all have been informed, however, considering that we all died prematurely, the government took the initiative to go ahead and give their project a shot."

"Right, well, I'm certainly not running any marathons like this," said Elliot, still stuck in place and all the angrier for it. "What gives, Munch, why are we all baked goods?"

"Well… It seems that the _Eternal Recurrence _is still in its beta-testing stage… something must not have gone quite right and I'm sure pretty soon the feds are going to be wandeing what the hell happened to us."

"Well, frankly, I'm still wandering what the hell happened to us," said Fin. "Life as a muffin just isn't all I dreamed it would be, especially considering that in a few hours I'll be in some kids mouth, although I sure as hell taste good."

"Yes well, … um… that may be a problem…" said Munch.

"Oof," a voice said in conjunction with a thud, as a rice cake appeared on the upper story of the display case. The movement that had caused it to make a noise had also dislodged it, and now the rice cake came toppling off its shelf and down among the gathered pastries below, emitting a cloud of doughy powder upon impact.

"The hell?" said Elliot.

"Hey guys," said a familiar voice. "Its George."

"George!" cried Olivia rolling around him affectionately.

"Oh, good, I'm glad you're here," said Munch. "Now just for the rest of us…"

"The rest?" questioned Olivia, still rolling enthusiastically. Olivia was of all of them most enjoying her new life as a chocolate orb. "Who else are we expecting John?"

"Well, Melinda and Cragen of course," said the munkin.

Just then they detected a slurping sound from outside the glass case. The motile pastries all gathered near the edge to investigate the sound, while an irate Elliot clamored vainly about.

"Munch! Why am I the only one that can't move!"

"Elliot shut up!" said Munch, "let us listen." In a row the munkin, muffin, ricecake, and chocolate orb all peered out into the quiet store, or rather pressed themselves against the glass, where their attention was soon drawn to the doorway.

"Is that… what I think it is…?" said Fin.

A pool of dark goop was slowly forming inside the store, apparently diffusing through the thin space under the door. The goop was gradually growing in size, and soon separated itself from the door and began to slowly glide across the room, oddly leaving no trace of its path, but all the while creating that same strange slurping sound.

"Munch," said George, while they were observing the strange brown pool on the floor. "Why exactly did we each become what we became?"

"Um, well, I think that may have to do with a few things I told the feds about us…" said Munch hurriedly, "but we can't be sure, anyways, I think I know who this is," he continued, changing the subject.

"Who?" Olivia questioned.

"Well, she's almost here we may as well let her introduce herself."

The brown goop had reached the display case and spread itself out among all the various minute openings it had, seeping slowly inside. The goop reassembled itself into a shapeless mass in front of the bewildered SVU detectives, and then said, "What? Haven't seen Melinda as a chocolate shake before?"

"Melinda!" Fin and everyone else exclaimed, "what the hell?"

"Yeah, don't ask," she said, "I found myself in the ice cream store down the block and had an unexplainable urge to seep in here, and now I've found you guys!"

"Damn," said Elliot from a distance, eager to be included in the reunion.

"Oh hey Elliot!" said Melinda. "Why are you all the way up there, come down any join us!"

"Um, he can't," whispered George as Elliot fumed.

"Well, this accounts for everyone except Cragen," said John. "Melinda, you didn't happen to see him on your way over here did you?"

"Um, in case you didn't notice, it's hard enough for me to move around, much less keep my eyes open for our Captain when he could be any strange object," Melinda said as she tried to prevent herself from dissociating on the countertop.

"Well, I was hoping that the Captain would find the _Eternal Recurrence_ to be a bit refreshing, a fountain of youth type deal," said John, "but I'll be damned if he was too old for it."

Just then the group heard a deep sound from outside the display case, much like the bellows of a monster from the far reaches of an untraveled cave, or perhaps like the great bass of a blue whale or other sea monster as it quakes in the deep ocean and sends trembles through coastal homes.

"What the hell was that?" said Elliot.

"Shit…" said Fin, "look out there!"

All the pastries began spinning in different directions. "Out where, Fin? You can't point!"

"Oh damn, sorry, behind Elliot, on the countertop."

The detectives turned to look past a struggling and indignant Elliot who was misfortunately oriented so as to have no view of the countertop on which the others saw a surprising thing. There was a large glass pan sitting on the countertop, filled with some extravagant dish which was bumbling and struggling against its heavy weight and great size.

"ooohhRAAWRRR!" roared the dish.

"Oh my god," said Fin, "It's a monster."

"It's hideous!" said Melinda.

"It's a casserole!" said Olivia.

"It's… it's… Cragen!" gasped John in culmination.

"RAARAARRR!" came the broad casserole. "What are you all doing in there?" thundered its deep voice. "Come out here, we've got work to do!"

"You've… got to be kidding me…" said George.

"No time to spare, hurry out it will be daylight soon!" boomed the casserole.

"All right, we're coming!" answered Melinda, "no need to spill yourself!"

"What do you mean 'we're'?" Elliot asked, drowning out the casserole's resentment at Melinda's remark.

"Well, all of us that can move at least," she corrected.

With a great deal of difficulty Melinda managed to extract herself from the glass prison and goop herself around the latch of the door to draw it open, releasing the other pastries to bumble and meander across the floor of the restaurant. They were unaccustomed to their newfound difficulty of travel, and it took them nearly half an hour to reach the countertop that housed the casserole. Finally, gathering around Cragen, they inquired what was so urgent.

"Unlike you lazy detectives I wasn't sitting around somnolent all day!" the casserole boomed, shaking the countertop and causing the surrounding pastries to tremble.

"Um… okay, Captain, we just um.. woke up, you know?" Fin said, annoyed. It seemed like Cragen's irritability had increased with his new avatar, or maybe it was just a consequence of the unpleasant form his soul had taken.

"The point is," the casserole continued loudly, "I happened to notice the gaze of a certain customer toward Casey, and after staring into the face of so many damned perverts and rapists I can tell you for a fact that this man had no good intentions!"

"Tell me, Cragen, that after waking up your first thought was not who's the rapist in the room?" asked George, as he balanced his disc-like body carefully on the edge of the countertop.

"Well, I was a bit taken aback, but I found that I quite like being a casserole!"

"Cragen," said Olivia, "we're right here there's no need to yell."

"My apologizes its just so natural for me to speak like this now!"

"Right," said Fin. "So what about this guy you saw?"

"I can guarantee he was out to get Casey, down to no good from the beginning. A really despicable looking fellow. Dark heavy coat, thin shaded glass and jagged long hair. He asked Casey for a loaf of rosemary bread, and as she turned around to retrieve it he stared her down maliciously. I can tell you this guy did not mean well, but he seemed uninterested in taking any further risks at the time. I'll bet we'll see him back today. Speaking of today, it looks like the sun's rising."

The breaded treats all rotated to inspect their view of the street, upon which the faint hints of dawn were slowly becoming visible.

"You guys better get back on your shelf." Cragen thundered. "Casey's a baker now but I doubt she's any less workaholic. She'll probably be here in minute."

"Cragen, damn it, if you keep talking so loudly half the city will be wondering what's going on in here!" said Fin, but just then they heard the sound of a car door slamming from the back parking lot of the store.

"Let's go!" cried Munch, but the others didn't need any further persuasion. They all scrambled, rolled, slid, bounced, seeped and sauntered across and off the countertop, returning themselves to their display case just in time as Casey Novak, lime green apron already streaming around her, strolled proudly into the front room.

"All right, day two, here we go!" she said excitedly.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sorry for the long delay in updating. Here is the third installment. Savor it.

Upon returning to the display case the detectives began to deliberately arrange themselves so as to be hidden from the searching hand of one of the bakers. They found the prospect of being eaten by some hungry customer to be very unwholesome, and sought to avoid it by tucking themselves deeply away amongst the other baked goods that still lay lifelessly in the case. Melinda had oozed down to the floor was seeping into the grating under their abode. Elliot had remained in his place, still unable to move. Huang had now learned to guide himself with skill, and meandered around like bicycle wheels guide a bicycle when left to trail by itself. Olivia was currently rolling next to Fin, who was bounding along awkwardly.

"Fin," she asked the muffin, "what do you think would happen if we were eaten?"

"Oh, hell, I hadn't even thought of that," Fin said melancholically. "I didn't mind getting engulfed by a fire, of all the ways to go that's not too bad. I don't even remember it that much. But a second death? Man, I don't know. And being eaten by some fat New Yorker bum doesn't sound very pleasant, but it does sound like a one way ticket to the next underworld, if this is the first."

"Haha," laughed Olivia, "yeah, we could count this one as the first. Maybe we'll respawn a third time as a bacteria or aphid or something."

Fin murmured his disfavor of that prospect to himself; the lights in the store had just come on and Casey Novak now entered, followed by her two assistants. The detectives watched the workers move about the store turning on ovens and pulling out trays of dough. Abbie flicked on the front lights and began pulling chairs down from the tables while Alex turned on the coffee maker. They were all chatting with one another about their expectations for the day, Casey was especially excited, but the detectives were more concerned with the warnings they had heard from the casserole earlier.

Customers soon began pouring into the store again and brought with them a busy commotion that allowed the small dough detectives to converse with each other, so long as neither Casey, Alex or Abbie was currently grasping around them for a certain pastry or tart. They discussed first how they would recognize the foreboding man Cragen had mentioned, and then what in the world they might do if they managed to recognize him, if he was indeed as foul as Cragen had said he was.

"Wait!" Munch said suddenly, "look there!"

"God, again, Munch, _where_? You can't point!" Fin complained.

"Outside the window you fools!" Munch cried.

"Oh," said Olivia. Beyond the glass, upon which _Casey's Pastries: Delicious Delicacies of an Intimate Nature _was etched, stood a man clad in a large overcoat with a wide brimmed hat. His eyes were veiled by a thick pair of sunglasses but the intent of his glance was clear.

"That's got to be him," Elliot called down from above.

"Yes, but what if it is? We're trapped in here, the best we could do is hope that he buys one of us and then try to give him indigestion." Elliot smirked at that, saying that he could accomplish that and more, but just then the trench coat man left his post and entered the café.

"He's coming he's coming!" Olivia said.

Sure enough the man approached the counter and then spoke words that the detectives could not hear. He was leaning close to Casey and still wore his sunglasses, and spoke longer than was necessary to order coffee and bagels. Before long however Casey stepped back, appearing a bit uneasy, paused for a moment, and then slid the glass door back and reached her hand in among the detectives. It searched around for a moment and then came to rest on Huang. His comrades gasped. Huang froze.

Casey withdrew the rice cake and closed the glass door.

Immediately Olivia burst out sorrowfully, "Huang! Huang! Noooo!" Part of her chocolate orb-like veneer began to melt as she wailed and cried softly.

"It's okay, Liv," Elliot bellowed from above, trying to console her, but even he was woeful. Munch and Fin simply stayed put, downcast, as it were, and followed Casey's motions silently with their dough eyes. Casey extended the rice cake to the stranger on a plate, along with a cup of coffee. The stranger took these and receded to a table nearby, where he sat staring back at the counter and eyeing Casey.

The detectives watched as he crunched away on the rice cake, bite after bite, eating away George Huang. Olivia was moaning and weeping as it happened, and Fin urged her to pull herself together before she melted into a puddle of molten chocolate. The man's teeth churned down violently, breaking pieces off successively and sending crumbs flying in all directions. His jaws chewed and masticated the bites together thoroughly, leaving no hope for Huang's survival.

After demolishing the rice cake at length the stranger stood up and left the café, but not without giving Casey another hideous stare. The detectives were inconsolable, they all bawled and huddled together around Elliot, no longer concerned about being taken themselves. There they remained for the rest of the evening, as business dwindled and the day drew to a close. Finally the store was closed, and it was time for the employees to return home. They cleaned the store and closed the registers like they had the day before, and then Casey added to the display case the leftover goods they had made that day. Then they left.

The display was shrouded in darkness again, and the detectives finally had a moment of silence. There they stood, exhausted from the grief of Huang's loss. No hope could be found in visiting Cragen again, and at any rate none had the energy to attempt the arduous journey back up the countertop. They remained huddled around the Stablercake, and sobbed themselves to sleep.

The dreams of the detectives were disturbed that night, for it was the first night any had rested since the _Eternal Recurrence_. Some dreamed of their past lives as humans, some dreamed of the fiery end of these lives. Some dreamed of ovens and mouths, the banes of biscuits. But, generally, their dreams were strange mixtures between these two fields, more like nightmares than anything else. But, they were not the only ones to dream in that case that night, nor were all of the dreams confined to such personal topics. There was another series of dreams, not experienced by Elliot, Munch, Fin or Olivia.

_A man rushed forward to a desk, searching through piles of paperwork. Old books, sketches, and charts were pushed aside to uncover more files papers and diagrams. Desperate hands moved frantically, and then paused suddenly, to look at a watch, and then continued. Finally they caught a map, with a black circle etched deeply around a point. The map was held close; the name next to the circle read Mt. Hiei. The map was discarded, and more papers were sifted about, and then discarded as well._

_Then the hands caught an old scroll, written in some strange character, with notes scribbled on the side. This was held close as well, and the following lines were made clear,_

"_To the one who holds the secret, only death will move to speak."_

_And then further down,_

"_The herb leaves a mark, a faint red stain, on the holder of the secret, which not even the fastest rivers can expunge."_

_The hands swept back, and the table disappeared. There was rushing now, back across a dark room to a door, and then down a long hallway. The person hurried down a flight of stairs into a basement, which was flooded with bright fluorescent light. It was a research lab of some sort. The hands grabbed a lone high heel and placed it under a microscope, inspecting it. Traces of red stains could be discerned among its thin strips. The lens was left and a long knife with a black sheath was pulled off a wall mounted stand, and a small pistol was fitted with a silencer and then hidden deep within the pocket of a trench coat. The world suddenly became blurry and began to shake violently. Colors melded together and objects began to whirl._

The close of the dream coincided with a hacking choking sound among the pastries. It was so severe that it roused the mournful detectives.

"What's that?" Olivia murmured. A rough gagging sound reached their ears and continued painfully.

"UGH! UGH! UGH!" it went. The detectives looked around wildly, and then located the source of this strange sound. It was coming from a little beige colored cookie nearby, which was rocking back and forth trying to regurgitate whatever was tormenting it. Finally the climax was reached, and half the cookie exploded sideways and littered the nearby pastries with its shell.

"WHUAAA!" it went, vomiting out half of a white paper ribbon, and choking up the rest a minute later.

"Well, I've never seen anything like that in my life," Munch said in wonder.

"Ugh," the cookie coughed, looking around and then making a little hop. "I don't believe it!" it said.

"GEORGE!" Olivia burst out. "Is that you?"

"Yes, I think it is," said the cookie, "except, now, it looks like I'm a fortune cookie."

"SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" went Olivia, rolling up and slathering herself around and inside the fortune cookie joyfully. The other detectives soon joined them, Munch and Fin pushing Elliot over.

"Guys, guys, yes I'm fine," said George. "But I've got to- wait, look, my fortune!" George looked down at the white ribbon he had hurled up. "It's a fortune, look!"

"Oh, wow," said Fin, "what does it say?"

_ If the shoe fits, it is probably the right size. _*

"Well, that's helpful," said Elliot sarcastically.

"Isn't it?" exclaimed George, seeming to understand something the others didn't. Then the relevance of his dream dawned on him, and he recounted it to his comrades. They deduced that the digested rice cake had given George some strange organic insight into the trench coat man's life, in whose stomach part of George's soul now resided. How exactly George had reappeared as a fortune cookie, however, no one could say.

"Casey is the holder of some secret and that trench coat man knows it and is out to get her!" George cried. "The shoe fit! It was her high heel I saw in the dream!"

"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Olivia, still snuggled into George's blasted form.

Just then Melinda oozed back into the display case and aggregated around the others. "I've been thinking all day," she said, "and I think I have a plan."

* This was a real fortune I received one time, I facepalmed.

a/n: review please if you read!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Okay everyone, this is now the last chapter, because although this story is fun it really doesn't have that much of a plot and it is hard to prolong. Besides, I have another series of stories I'm working on and NEED to finish, and another fruitful SVU idea that I would like to start. So this is the last of Casey's Pastries. Accordingly, this chapter is a little longer, and let me warn you, becomes a little fluffy at the end in an absurd (and maybe inappropriate?) way. Read and you will understand; it is a tribute to Ranowa Hikura's longstanding obsession with CO. All right, let the baking begin, and remember, reviews are always appreciated. Okay, hope you enjoy...

Melinda began to reveal the thoughts she had had during the daytime, but before she could get far the lights to the store came on again. Melinda stopped talking immediately and all the detectives froze and peered around to seek out the cause of this new luminescence. Soon Casey appeared again, though without her lime green apron. She was alone, and it seemed she had returned for some forgotten bit of business. She was muttering to herself and the detectives caught snatches of "forget to do this earlier," and "can't leave it until tomorrow."

She approached the countertop opposite the display case, the countertop upon which Cragen's Casserole had sat all day, unsought and unwanted. Only a handful of customers had even inquired about it and then distastefully refused it. Casey stooped over it, watching it cautiously as if she was afraid it might burst out of its pan and slime itself all over her.

"Silly experiment of Alex," they heard her say.

Casey grabbed a spoon from nearby and made to take a scoop out of the casserole but was thwarted by its thick hide. She gripped the spoon with both hands and cranked down on it like a lever, prying a chunk of casserole off Cragen's head. She held the spoon up to her mouth and eyed it questioningly. Her observers caught the words, "guess I'll see if its any good," as she plunged the spoon into her mouth and chewed, grimacing.

It didn't take long. Almost immediately Casey was bent over coughing out the caked bit of old man, chocking and cursing.

"That's it!" she cried. "That's the last time I let Alex try any experiments without letting me approve of the ingredients first!" She picked up the casserole dish and all the detectives gasped. Casey turned and emptied the entire concoction into a nearby trashcan. Slapping her hands together she cried triumphantly, "well, glad that's done!"

The detectives were horrified. Huang had returned, yes, it was true, but how would Cragen fare, being dismembered among the other refuse from the day? Casey's happy dance of victory was interrupted, however, by some distraction outside the store. She stopped moving and hollered, "we're closed!"

The detectives swerved. There, beyond the colorful glass, stood the trench-coated stranger, appearing more menacing than ever under the dim light of the street corner. He raised his arm and began to slowly and methodically rap on the door to the café. _Tap, tap, tap_ went his knuckles against the cold glass. Casey repeated her declaration but the man did not heed it. He continue, riveted in place, to rap the glass with his knuckles. Casey just stood uncertainly for a moment, clearly unsure how to treat this stranger. Then she turned and made to simply leave the café from the back, but as she did so the tapping increased in volume and tempo.

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap _went the knuckles. The man was no longer wearing sunglasses, but he did have on a pair of glasses that still serve to mask the intention of his glance. Casey continued to deliberate.

As the suspense increased Huang began gagging again. The detectives then noticed that his ruined face, which had been blown away by his first fortune was no healed. But he was coughing and struggling again, plagued by another internal malady.

"UGH," he went, and then, as before, "WUAAHA!" The mended shell detonated again, sending baked shrapnel in all directions. Another ribbon of fortune was drawn forth. It read:

_Plans guide the way, but are served best in an auspicious moment._

Huang lay still, traumatized, leaving the augury to the others.

"Well, guys, it clearly means we should get a move on while Casey is distracted by the stranger. She may need our help very soon," said Munch.

"Yes, but not without some planning," agreed Fin.

"Yes, the planning, that's what I was trying to say. Now, I'm getting out of here again. I can open the glass door on the back so you all can escape. Then, meet me near the cash register that Alex uses and I'll go over the rest with you." With the silent affirmation of her companions Melinda disaggregated and oozed to the back of the display case, filtering through its components and reforming around the lock on the door on the outside. With circumspection she negotiated the latch and the door slowly and soundlessly slid open. They were free again.

One by one the detectives filed out, as quietly as possible, although Elliot was left behind, still cemented in place and fuming. The rapping had continued during their revelation, and if anything it had increased. It now appeared that Casey had unwisely resolved to give in to the incessant pestering of the stranger, rather than walk out on him. She had debated for a while, and was at this point thoroughly frightened by his strange actions, but in the end social obligation had won out and over to the door she walked.

"What is it, what do you want?" she asked, once her face was near the glass.

The rapping stopped, but the man's mouth did not open. He simply stood stock still and continued to glare at Casey. Then his hands shot up and grasped the handles of the door and rattled it violently. Casey stumbled backwards, alarmed. Now she was convinced. If this man needed help, then he could have said something or at least have been less terrifying. Whatever it was he needed or wanted, Casey didn't care, she was getting the hell out of there. Casey turned and tried to walk out again with as much composure as she could muster, but she was trembling noticeably.

During this slight altercation the detectives had made it out of the display case and were assembled behind one of the cash registers. Melinda soon joined them in her goopy fashion and began relying to them the directions she had so carefully formulated during the day, and just in time too.

Suddenly the glass door burst open. Casey had not even made it halfway across the room, but now her desire to flee evaporated. She cared about herself, yes, but she carried about _Casey's Pastries_ a lot more, and did not intend to let this bozo wreck the restaurant she had worked on for over a year. Besides, she had some fight in her and was no coward when her spirit was livid.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing!" Casey exclaimed, indignant.

"Go! Go! Go!" Melinda bade the detectives urgently. The all dissipated to their marked positions.

"I want something you have," the stranger said brashly and monotonously.

"Well, you're not getting it," Casey replied, whipping out her phone. "I'll have you know that in a past life I was a lawyer and this will get you a least a dozen years in jail if you don't leave now! And I'm calling the police!" Casey raised the phone to dial the number, and the man made a move to overtake her, but just then the café was flooded with light and sound.

Melinda had seeped into the CD player and now the café was immersed in the Mission Impossible theme song. The secret agent tune was now blaring through the speakers of the store, a very effective diversion to cover up the movements of the other bakery agents. The lights had been turned on by Olivia, who had rolled across the counter and up some stacks of supplies so she could drop down to the floor, flicking the light switch on her way.

At first Casey and the trench-coated stranger both jumped in surprise. They looked about wildly, Casey especially, but could not discern the causes of these bizarre alterations to their environment. The stranger was the first to be restored to his purpose. He focused back on the bewildered Casey and said, "now, you will tell me the secret of the _Eternal Recurrence_."

"The… _Eternal Recurrence_…" Casey whispered feebly, stumbling backwards now and tripping over a chair. _How the hell does he know about that_, she thought. _The man who gave me the instructions for it told me not to tell anyone else about it. Ever. He said it was a terribly secret thing and that many people wanted desperately to get their hands on it._

"I… I don't know what you are talking about," Casey said, which was partly true, because, although she had followed the man's instructions concerning the mulberry powder she had observed no strange behavior in any of the Munkins that were made from it, although there was at this moment a certain Munkin carrying a stapler with the aid of a muffin across one of the aesthetic structural beams that held the light fixtures in place above their heads.

"Man, I would never in a million days dare do this if it wasn't for that Mission Impossible theme," the muffin said to his companion. "She just knows me too well."

"Yeah, too bad you two never hooked up in real life," Munch said, half jokingly.

"Isn't it, though! Fin exclaimed dramatically. "I really had a thing for her, but she was just always… always so formal, and professional, you know? So clean cut. I never thought it would go down."

"Well, this is about to go down," Munch said. They had reached a spot just above the trench-coated man's head, and jumped down onto the flat of the light that hung below them. Fin rotated the stapler around as Munch rolled himself under the front end.

"Okay, Operation Death by Stapler, commence!" Munch said. Fin pushed the stapler forward, Munch guiding it like the wheel of a tricycle, and soon all three objects were airborne. They fell for a moment, Munch rolling off to the side, and the stapler collided with the stranger's head. Then, the muffin came down hard on top of it, and a stapler was stamped into the man's skull. He let out a shrill cry as the muffin and stapler tumbled to the ground to join the Munkin.

"What the hell!" he yelled, grasping his head painfully and bending over. Casey just stared at him in amazement, not knowing if she should believe what she had just seen, but just then the man's feet shot up from under him and he flew backwards, slamming his shoulders and head into a table and smashing it to the ground with a crash. He yelled again.

Casey looked down to where the man's feet had been. There, to her surprise, she saw two brown, almost chocolate looking, puddles. But that couldn't be she thought, they had cleaned the floored thoroughly only hours before- but then one of the puddles began to coalesce into a round ball and the other began to glide around, and what was more the muffin and Munkin were moving too! Casey leaned forward in obfuscation and stared, pale faced. Sure enough, all of these items were animated and had seemed to congregate in a little circle and were now bouncing about, as if dancing.

Just then something plopped onto Casey's head and rolled off into her lap.

_A fortune cookie, where did that come from? _Casey thought. But then the cookie convulsed and let out a heaving gasp. Its side exploded and a white ribbon riffled out of it, and it vomited it onto Casey's leg.

"What the hell," Casey said as they remains of the cookie nudged the paper, as if meaning for her to read it. Casey at last picked it up and read:

_You will find friends in unlikely places._

Slowly the implication of this dawned on her. She leapt to her feet, sending the poor fortune cookie flying across the room.

"It can't be!" she cried, having completely forgotten about the strange trench-coated man who was still writhing in pain on the floor nearby. Casey hurried forward, her eyes wet with tears, and leaned down close to the ring of bakery agents.

"Olivia? John? Elliot? George? Cragen? Melinda? Fin? Guys?" she asked eagerly and was greeted with a chorus of answers informing her that Olivia, Melinda, Munch, Fin and Melinda were present, that Elliot was still trapped in the display case, and that she had just thrown Cragen away. "So it did work!" she cried. "The _Eternal Recurrence _worked after all!"

"HA! I knew you knew what I was talking about!" the stranger scoffed, at last coming to his senses and rising again. "Now, about that secret."

"Melinda! Quick, what do we do?" Olivia asked desperately.  
>"Um, I haven't thought this far ahead, I have nothing left," Melinda said despondently. Casey sat back trembling and the bakery agents huddled protectively around her.<p>

"Ha! As if a couple fruitcakes are going to stop me, now that I know what you are!" the stranger said bitterly, as he stepped forward.

_Pop!_ Came a noise. The man stopped again, because the noise had not come from near Casey. He looked to his right, behind the counter, to see a waffle sitting toasted in a toaster. It had just popped up.

"What the…" he said. The waffle then clicked down and was popped out again, higher, this time landing on the counter. It fell over and slid under the back of the toaster, and then raised itself up, elevating the toaster diagonally along with it until the toaster was standing on one of its ends. Its interior glowed red hot, metallic coils burning with the charge of electricity. Then out fired from its molten core another waffle, projected at a speed unprecedented, and sailed across the room straight into the man's face, landing and imprinting itself there.

"AGGHHHH!" cried the man as he waved his arms and tried to pry the burning waffle from his face. When he finally succeeded and threw it to the ground it was revealed that his face was now impressed with the characteristic grid like pattern of waffles. He stumbled about again, bent double with pain. The waffle, meanwhile, meandered over to where Casey still sat.

"What? You thought I was done for? Think again, young ones, it'll take more than that to get rid of me!"

"Cragen!" Casey exclaimed, grabbing the waffle and hugging him fondly. "I'm so sorry for throwing you away earlier, will you ever forgive me?"

"Of course, my dear," Cragen replied.

"ENOUGH!" bellowed the trench-coated man. He rounded on them, and glared at them with a red and steaming expression, which only affected their laughter. "THIS IS IT," he cried," YOU ARE ALL GOING TO PAY!" He stepped forward and crushed his foot down upon the ground in front of Casey, scattering the bakery agents about, and grabbed Casey by the throat, dragging her up until she was eyelevel with him. "Tell me the secret," he said menacingly, "or you perish!"

_CRASH!_

The glass display case burst into a thousand glass shards with a thunderous explosion. Glass was sent streaming everywhere, and once again the trench-coated stranger had to check his plans. He released Casey and turned to face this new event. Inside the case sat a very upset looking Stablercake. Elliot's brooding intensity had finally come to a new high, and he had entered Unstabler Mode. The cake Stablerized and could now move. The side that faced the stranger twisted itself into what was unmistakably a chilling scowl.

The Stablercake then flipped itself onto its round side, and began to roll like a coin off its shelf of residence and down the three lower shelves and then down to the floor, gaining speed as it did so. Elliot landed on the floor with a thud, making a dent, and continued to gain speed as he approached the trench-coated man, tumbling along like a bowling ball. The Stablercake collided with the man's foot, crushing his toes, and was propelled by this impact straight upwards and into the man's jaw, snapping his head back and sending him sprawling backwards. The man slammed into the ground, unconscious.

The Stablercake came hurtling back to the earth, and made such an impression upon impact that later Casey decided not to pay the $800 it would cost to repair the floor. She left the crater, and now children played in it.

"Oh, thank you all so much!" Casey exclaimed, embracing all the bakery agents happily.

Melinda and Fin were the first to break away, Fin had finally mentioned his prevailing feelings to the chocolate milkshake, and the two were no slurping away at each other in Elliot's crater, which Elliot had vacated.

George had re-grown his shell again, but now hurled up another fortune.

_ Go with your gut. Now may be the time to express your feelings._

"Elliot," he said, but Elliot, who would never see his wife Kathy again, and had long been convinced of Olivia's adoration of Casey Novak, simply rolled over to Huang and fell upon him, flattening him in brutal affection.

"Casey! I've always loved you!" Olivia finally burst out.

"Oh my gosh! I've waited for so long to hear those words!" Casey leaned down toward Olivia seductively and picked her up. "Mhm, made of chocolate, huh? You know, I like chocolate."

"You do, do you?" Olivia replied. "Well, I like your mouth."

Casey squeezed the chocolate orb and licked her, and then ravenously engulfed Olivia. Casey chewed, savoring every bite, and then swallowed, confining Olivia to the wonderful 30 feet of her digestive tract. Olivia dissolved and settled down into Casey's acidic stomach joyfully, this having been her dream ever since waking up a few days earlier.

Cragen and Munch then looked at each other.

"Well, we're the only ones left," Munch said sadly.

"Yeah," said Cragen.

Without another word the two joined together, the Munkin smattering itself against the still warm waffle, which wrapped itself around the Munkin in return, molding into one deformed mass.

"Oh my god!" Casey cried, inspired by this consummate union. "Mungen Crunch! It'll be the new specialty of _Casey's Pastries_!"

Just then Casey looked up and noticed that a full crowd of spectators had gathered in front of the destroyed doors of the store, and were now peering inside in utter confusion and repugnance at the fiendish orgy that was taking place there.

"Um… I can explain…" Casey said, blushing deeply.

BENOVAK.


End file.
